


i'm ready to move on (from your bad dream)

by JuniperTrees



Series: weddingverse [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24931414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniperTrees/pseuds/JuniperTrees
Summary: Merula is here, hand laced with yours. “Breathe with me,” she commands, and you follow. You always follow.
Relationships: Player Character/Merula Snyde
Series: weddingverse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790530
Comments: 11
Kudos: 49





	i'm ready to move on (from your bad dream)

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve realized how easy it is to write romance when you’re in love. god i’m such a sap
> 
> title from i’m ready to move on/mickey mantle reprise by bleachers!
> 
> not beta-ed so tell me if there are mistakes :///

Merula has the best eyes. As a kid, you’d always heard things like  _ the eyes are the window to the soul; eyes make a person _ .

And you’d brushed it all off because yeah, it was romantic and poetic and deep, but it didn’t really  _ mean  _ anything.

You’d only realized how profound it was when you’d stared into hers.

The body can hold so much love, yet you don’t think it’s enough. It feels like love was built for something greater because you can’t tell how much you love Merula — you just know it’s a lot. There’s no way to express how much you love her hair and hands and eyes and person. 

Sometimes you don’t even know how to say her name. Merula doesn’t sound right — it can’t encompass everything she is: bold and brave and beautiful. She is too much to describe. You’d brought it up once and she’d laughed. 

“My parents called me Merle,” she’d suggested, and you’d given her a perfunctory smile. 

You’d almost shaken your head because that didn’t sound right either. That name was for her parents, for a little girl they would no longer know if they met her now. The name you’re looking for seems too grand to put into your mouth. Nothing seems like enough.

You’re still searching for a word that can do it all at once: convey your feelings and soothe her insecurities, the nightmares and sudden pains she still gets almost a decade later.

You wake with a gasp, forehead damp with cold sweat but hands warm underneath the covers. It takes a moment for you to register that the lamp is lit, basking the bedroom in a soft glow. 

Your vision focuses on Merula, hovering above you, mouth moving even though you’re not conscious enough to register the words yet.

It’s dark outside and a far cry from morning, so something must have woken you both up. It isn’t something good judging from Merula’s pinched expression.

You’re so bad at remembering dreams, but the feelings linger, clinging to your subconscious like a disease. Everytime you wake up, your shoulders are tense and your head is clouded with past fears. It doesn’t make any sense because it happened so long ago, and the things that happened to you then are now obsolete and dead.

It doesn’t stop you from trying to breathe, knowing there’s air in your lungs but feeling like it’s not enough. Sometimes you try so hard to breathe your chest hurts, making it even more difficult. 

On the worst days, hours after you’ve risen and started the day, you can still feel cold seeping through the cracks in the buildings, shadows flitting in your vision, an empty threat that never fades.

This time it’s okay because Merula is here, her voice quiet and soothing. You’ve never thought of her as  _ warm _ , but she’s  _ home _ and that’s the closest thing.

“You were muttering again,” she whispers when you find her hand and give it a weak squeeze.

“Bad dream,” you say and she purses her lips. There’s really no need to say it out loud, but you’ve found that talking helps.

She’s wrapped up in a faded green nightgown, sitting upright and legs spread out underneath the blankets. You remember when you’d just bought the dress for her — a housewarming present made from once vibrantly colored fabric.

She lies down when you puff out a small laugh. The lines on her forehead grow deeper and she frowns. 

“About what?” She asks, absentmindedly brushing back the hair stuck to your forehead.

“I can’t remember,” you say. It’s almost an inside-joke at this point, and it would be funny if it wasn’t so sad. You have to know the root of a problem to solve it, but you’ve never been able to figure it out. And when you think about all the things that could have caused it, the pain and loss and suffering of your childhood, the problem seems insurmountable.

Sometimes you think Merula hates your nightmares more than you do. It seems like they hurt her more too. She’s always liked having control, but there’s nothing she can do here. You can’t fix her and she can’t fix you, but your broken edges fit perfectly with hers.

You hate that you can’t help her either. You can’t erase everything the two of you have been through. Sometimes the helplessness digs into the raw, dormant wounds of your own self-doubt and hatred, gripping and festering it’s way out. It’s especially strong on nights where she wakes both of you with a gut-wrenching scream, lashing out in fear of an unforgivable curse neither of you have ever cast.

It’s the same animosity that traps her whenever she sees you hurting, desperately trying to breathe with your eyes scrunched shut.

_ I can’t  _ do _ anything,  _ she’d said angrily, hands clawing her hair in an attempt to grasp anything that might ground her. It’d been hardest at the beginning, when you were still tentative with her, unsure of when it was okay to wipe away tears or whisper gentle reassurances.

Nowadays, she grips your hands instead of her unruly hair. Sometimes she grips so hard her nails break your skin, but it’s a willing price you pay.

_ But you’re here. We’re trying. It’s enough _ , you tell her over and over again. It’s a reminder for you just as much as it’s a reminder for her.

You realize you’ve gotten caught up in your thoughts and offer a practiced smile. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Merula sighs, shifting so she’s curled towards you. “Hmm,” she hums. She knows it’s not okay, but she’s willing to pretend when you need it.

You try sucking in a breath but find yourself short of it. Earlier on, the lack of control would have been all it took to send you reeling in a panic. 

But Merula is here, hand laced with yours. “Breathe with me,” she commands, and you follow the rise and fall of her chest. 

It takes a minute before the walls stop encroaching on you. “Thanks,” you manage.

Merula closes her eyes, lashes fluttering. It’s approaching light outside and you both have work when morning comes. “You can take the day off if you need sleep,” she says.

You smile easily at her this time, bringing her hand to your lips and pressing them to her knuckles. “You’ll take a day off with me?”

She snorts, eyes still closed. “You know I can’t do that,” she scolds although her tone is light.

“I know,” you murmur against her skin. “Just a thought. I wasn’t planning on taking the day off anyways.” She opens her eyes to give you a worried look and you laugh. “I’ll feel better in the morning. I promise.”

She looks like she’s about to say something before she quiets, pressing her lips together. “Okay,” she finally says, scooting forwards to fit into you as you open your arms. 

She feels so right that for a minute, you think the nightmares don’t matter, that they might never happen again. It’s a wishful thought, but it provides enough comfort that you can close your eyes and fall back asleep.

It’s not a solution — far from it. It will undoubtedly happen again, but you’re both working on it, and when morning comes you’ll be doing it together.

**Author's Note:**

> june is ptsd awareness month. hope you all are doing okay out there. please stay safe. love you guys :)


End file.
